


Figure Study in Red, White and Blue

by die_traumerei



Series: Figurative [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Artist Steve Rogers, Asexual Bucky Barnes, Asexual Character, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Nude Modeling, Protective Steve Rogers, Slice of Life, Take Your Fandom to Work Day, Universe Alteration, artist's model bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 02:50:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6638323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day in the life of Bucky Barnes, professional life model -- including his boyfriend, one Captain America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Figure Study in Red, White and Blue

**Author's Note:**

> So, I managed to miss the whole 'take your fandom to work day' thing when it was popular a few years ago, and then it came around and I basically didn't stop laughing for whole minutes. I'm currently a professional fine arts model, and I am tickled beyond belief that my profession is *already a trope*. I love it.
> 
> This is very much a sweet, cuddly slice-of-life piece, but I hope I showed a little bit (maybe a lot) of what working as an artists' model means to me. How it's often physically painful, sometimes very boring, but also incredibly rewarding; it's possibly my favorite job I've ever had, and I hope I can keep at it for a few more years yet.
> 
> NB: Just a little background, to put this universe in context: There was no Bucky Barnes (Arnie Roth can take his place in Steve's early life, as far as I care), Steve went down with the plane, etc. James Barnes was born in the eighties, and, as is explained a little in the story, was involved in a serious train accident in his early twenties -- long before he and Steve meet in the story. I envisioned Steve moving back and forth between DC and NYC as SHIELD required, which allows him to meet Sam, but none of the other events of CA:TWS occurred.
> 
> Hope that sets the stage for this! Very little of it is important in this story, but I won't ever say no to possibly continuing a universe...

Bucky checked his phone at the start of class, half-listening while the teacher went over a few things. He might have smiled like a doofus, seeing a text from Steve.

_**SGR:** hey gorgeous! Any chance you're free tonight?_

_**Buckyball:** for you, always. Is this for posing or a date or both?_

_**SGR:** Both, please, if you don't mind? I got a whole day off, and it's been too long since I painted you, Buck._

_**Buckyball:** _ _Of course I don't mind. Is there a_ reason _you have a day off?_

Captain America was a reckless asshole, and Bucky had learned to check on things like this after what would forevermore be known as the Noodle Incident. He liked to be prepared, if he was going to be confronted with his boyfriend half-covered in bandages.

_**SGR:** Standard protocol. I'm not broken, I promise :)_

_**Buckyball:** Better not be. i'm working all day, but i'll text you when I can ok? it'll be good to see you._

_**SGR:** you too, love. Come to my place in Brooklyn?_

_**Buckyball:** Will do. GTG, xoxo_

Bucky grinned and put his phone away until the next break. He hadn't seen Steve in almost two weeks, between both of them traveling for work, and Steve taking a quick break down in DC to visit Sam.

“Okay, you guys are warming up, but I still want you to concentrate on _loose_ movements,” the teacher was saying. “Don't worry about actually capturing the model, just the overall shape of the body, okay?” He turned to Bucky. “I'd like them to do ten two-minute poses, if that's good with you?”

“No problem at all,” Bucky said, and slipped his robe off, getting into the first pose. He took advantage of being able to stretch his back out a little, bending over and reaching towards his right foot.

He counted off the seconds, and switched at 120 – it was good to have something to concentrate on other than seeing Steve soon, at least. Bucky knelt, twisting his waist, and looked up, starting another count.

The two-minute poses went quickly, and he got another short break before the longer poses started.

_**SGR:** You got classes today?_

_**Buckyball:** Uh huh. Gestures in the morning!_

_**SGR:** Sweet! That's always the most fun._

_**Buckyball:** Yeah, I once did sixty one-minute poses in a row. it was the best._

Bucky checked his e-mail quickly, and marked one for reply – he'd have to check his calendar, but next Friday morning was probably fine. Safest to double-check, though, with the memory (or lack thereof) he had.

He moved to five-minute poses, flowing from sitting, to kneeling, to standing, to a final reclining pose before his next break. Steve had replied at some point.

_**SGR:** nghghghgh jealous. don't suppose I could talk you into that for me sometime?_

_**Buckyball:** no talking me into it required, love. Maybe not tonight though? I got another class after this, and it's always kinda hard. _

_**SGR:** Jeez, no, I'd wait til you had a day off! And if you're really tired tonight, we can just do dinner and HGTV. Painting'll still be there tomorrow._

Bucky had to go back to work at that – more five minutes poses that seemed to last forever. He felt itchy and restless this go-round. He _loved_ posing for Steve, and had a helluva time convincing the guy of it.

He started counting. It had probably been like three minutes in? That sounded good. Every sixty was a minute or so closer to a break, and then the class would be over in two hours. And then another class after lunch, and then he could go home and make out with his boyfriend, as God intended.

The alarm went off for the last time and he hurried to throw on his robe.

_**Buckyball:** sorry, working! I definitely wanna pose for you tonight! I'm just lying there and we can talk and relax and it'll be so good._

_**Buckyball:** i'm in new york for the next month solid btw, so if you're around, we'll see each other more._

_**SGR:** kinda up to the supervillains of the world, but i'm planning to be around. maybe we will get TWO DATE FRIDAYS in a row or some crazyass thing like that_

_**Buckyball:** _ _well NOW we won't, you've gone and ruined it._

Bucky grinned, adding a few emojis to make Steve smile.

 _**Buckyball:** _ _we're gonna get invaded or something_

_**SGR:** eh, we've got a hulk, he can take care of 'em. oh speaking of which, you wanna go to the Tower tomorrow? we got an invite to afternoon tea and video games_

_**Buckyball:** i'm even free tomorrow! holy shit, it is like we are a real couple_

Bucky went into the next set of poses much calmer. The alarm on his phone took care of marking off the five minutes, and he could daydream a little.

He hadn't _planned_ to date Captain America. But then Steven 'hot tits' Rogers had moved in down the hall from him. Bucky had been vaguely aware of him, but had become _extremely_ aware of him the night he stumbled home a little drunk and face-planted right in front of him.

“Hi!” he had brightly told an American hero's shoes. “Can you help me up? My balance is kinda shit.”

“So I see.” And then the biggest, warmest, gentlest hands in the entire universe were wrapped around Bucky's torso and were hauling him up. “You're in 119A, right?”

“Uh huh.” Bucky had laughed and tried to hide behind his hair. “Sorry. I usually don't drink, didn't mean to have this much...”

“It's okay,” Steve had said, and proceeded to pretty much carry him to his front door. “Key?”

“Uh. Shit.” He patted his pockets, then checked his messenger bag again. “Fuck.”

And that was how he spent the night in Steve Rogers' bed (while Steve slept on the sofa because of course he did) and woke up very, very hungover and very, very apologetic. He got the spare key from a friend, went home, and proceeded to try to die of actual embarrassment.

Except he didn't, and then Steve came to check on him, and Bucky explained about the train accident, and how he wasn't supposed to drink really and the whole not having most of one arm didn't help with the drunken balance thing, and Steve had sighed, then smiled, and then bought them both dinner and they _did_ manage to go a whole two weeks before kissing happened. Because it turned out that Steve Rogers was the nicest, sweetest, kindest and most bitingly bitter and sarcastic human being Bucky Barnes had ever had the pleasure to know. He never stood a chance. And, for reasons known only to the Lord, Steve thought Bucky hung the moon. They were disgustingly in love, as all of their friends had observed at one time or another.

Bucky sent a heart emoji to Steve at the next break. And then the peach/butt just because.

Steve sent back multiple peaches/butts.

The rest of the class went quickly enough – gestures always did, with the quick changes between poses, and Bucky grabbed lunch in a corner before hightailing it across town to catch the subway back to Brooklyn, a little pleased he wouldn't have to haul back to Manhattan again that night. He liked the Tower and got on with the rest of the Avengers pretty well, but Steve's apartment was just for them. And the lighting setup in Steve's studio was about a thousand times better there, even if it technically was worse than floor-to-ceiling windows and lights that mimicked natural sunlight.

The afternoon class was harder; more advanced students looking for difficult poses, and he wound up doing a lot of long standing poses. Instead of texting on his breaks, he lay on his back, willing his legs to stop aching, and during the poses he couldn't concentrate on much other than not locking his knees and making sure his weight was even, despite the contrappasto poses.

Yeah, he was definitely ready for some boyfriend time.

 

Why did the last pose of the day _always_ hurt?

It didn't matter if he was sprawled out on pillows, _something_ was going to be aching. Today it was his wrist of all things – Bucky _knew_ better, he knew better than to bend it this sharply for a long pose, but it looked so nice...

Besides, something else would have hurt, even reclining the way he was. And it was the last pose of the day – less than twenty minutes now. You could do anything for less than twenty minutes.

He flexed his quads briefly, then relaxed, hopefully before anyone had noticed. Okay, okay, maybe he was a little jumpy, since he was going to get a whole day with Steve, for the first time in ages. Or maybe he was just restless, it happened sometimes.

Bucky breathed deeply, and started counting in German to make himself concentrate. Every number was about a second, so every sixty was a minute, was that much closer to being done. Hold the pose, count, relax.

The timer on his phone went off, and he carefully straightened his wrist, rolling the joint a little, and slipped his robe on.

“That's it for this week,” the teacher was telling the class as Bucky gathered his things to go get changed. “Remember to bring the strongest pieces from today back next week. We'll have a model again for the first half of the class.” She smiled at Bucky as he headed for the bathroom to change. “Thanks, your poses were fantastic. Are you back with us next Saturday?”

“I'm not scheduled for then, but I only got the text about this yesterday, so I might be?” Bucky gave his most charming smile – it couldn't hurt.

“Sounds good. Have a good weekend. Thanks again.”

“My pleasure. Thanks guys!” Bucky called to the class, a few of whom looked up and chorused their thanks, most of them still absorbed in their work.

He ducked into the bathroom and quickly got dressed, tossing his robe in his bag. He could walk home from here, and stop off to buy a few bottles of the fancy hipster soda he and Steve drank. (Sometimes they split a bottle of wine or some beer, but Steve couldn't get drunk and Bucky got drunk _way_ too easily so – fancy soda it was.) And some flowers, because he could – big orange and yellow roses, even.

Bucky went straight to Steve's apartment and let himself in, calling hello.

“In the kitchen!”

He followed his boyfriend's voice, already smiling like a total moron.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve said, and got up from the table to kiss him hello.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Nat called from the table where she was sitting with a cup of coffee.

Bucky kissed Steve back while his mind raced. How did you be a person again? Right.

“Hey Nat,” he said, trying to be cool and also not trip over his own feet and also _why_ hadn't he put his bag down at the front door like normal people now he had to kind of...perch it in a corner and then he tripped on a chair until he finally sat down and prayed for death.

Bucky Barnes was thoroughly, utterly, hopelessly in love with Natasha Romanoff.

Of course, Steve found this _hilarious_ , because Steve was actually a gigantic asshole, and allegedly Natasha found it charming and sweet because _Steve had told her_ , and now she was over basically all of the time.

And it's not like he didn't want to hang out with her. She was Steve's best friend (Bucky aside), and he _did_ like her. She just reduced him to a pile of total uselessness, was all.

(“She knows I have brain damage from the accident, right?” Bucky had once asked hopefully. “I mean, to explain why I'm such a dip every time she sees me.”

“James Barnes, you should be ashamed of exploiting your disabilities like that,” Steve had said firmly. “Also yes, but also she knows that it generally manifests as issues with short-term memory, so you're still out of luck. Sucker.”

“They're _my_ disabilities, I'll exploit them however I like,” Bucky whined, and poked Steve as hard as he could with what remained of his left arm. “Stop making fun of me, I'm involved in the greatest unrequited love story of all time.”

“Bite my entire ass,” Steve had calmly informed him, so Bucky tried to, and they wound up kissing until Bucky was dizzy with it.)

Nat asked about his day and he bitched a little about how his knees hurt and made her laugh, so the evening was already a resounding success. She and Steve bitched about SHIELD and Tony, and Bucky sympathized, and Steve made him a cup of coffee with a ton of the flavored half-and-half he loved and he made Nat laugh exactly three more times before she finished her mug and took off for the evening.

“Have a good night, boys. See you tomorrow?” she asked, and Steve promised they would be at the Tower the next day. Natasha kissed them each on the cheek and let herself out, while Bucky's heart rate was still spiking.

“ _Oooooooo_ ,” Steve mocked, because he was an asshole. “Look who got a kiss!”

“I regret you,” Bucky informed the table, where he had gently lain face-down.

“You fuckin' love me,” Steve said smugly. “You even brought me flowers.”

“I shoulda given 'em to the bum on the corner,” Bucky continued to inform the table, but he was smiling, and sat up and tilted his head back to accept a kiss from Steve.

“Thank you,” Steve said into his mouth. “They're beautiful, Buck.”

“You're welcome,” Bucky mumbled, returning the kiss. He stood up – gracefully this time – and wrapped his arm around Steve, kissing him again. “Thanks for coming home to me all in one piece.”

“Thanks for being here to come home to.” Steve slipped his arms around Bucky and just held him for a long moment, the two of them pressed heart-to-heart. Steve rested his head on Bucky's shoulder, and Bucky rubbed his lover's back, soothing and reminding him – always gonna be here for you, numbnuts.

They kissed again, soft and easy, and Steve kissed the tip of his nose. “Dinner, or painting first?”

“Painting is fine. I'm more tired than hungry,” Bucky admitted, and grinned when Steve made worrying noises over him. “Not bad tired. Just ready to lie down for awhile.”

“Easy enough to arrange,” Steve promised. “Sit and finish your coffee and I'll get the roses into water.” He kissed Bucky's cheek again and nudged him towards the table. He didn't have to ask twice.

“There's stuff to drink in my bag, by the way,” Bucky said nursing his mug, the hot, sweet coffee exactly what he needed. The kisses and cuddles might have helped a little too.

“Thanks.” Steve bustled around the little kitchen, putting the drinks away and arranging the flowers in a dusty vase he found in the back of a cupboard. “These are really stunning, Bucky. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” Bucky blew him a little kiss, and drained the last of his coffee. “Guh. Thank you for the life-giving elixir.”

“Drama queen,” the drama queeniest of them all said. He wrapped an arm around Bucky's waist once he stood up, and they half-walked half-snuggled to the little studio in the back of the apartment. It was still set up for the ongoing painting, a little single bed laid with a dark velvet blanket, with more silk and velvet tacked up all around it to make a kind of tent. There were about ten thousand pillows under the wine-red coverlet, carefully arranged to support Bucky's body in a lounging pose.

He shed his clothes and climbed onto the bed while Steve turned on the single golden lamp. It was centered just below the bed and aimed so that only Bucky was fully lit in the little scene. (It also made it look a tiny bit like his cock was the light source in the painting, Bucky had pointed out, and had roundly been ignored by the artist in residence.) He settled into place while Steve fiddled with a few things, then checked him against the initial sketches he'd done as well as what there was of the oil painting. A few adjustments later and Bucky was relaxing into his soft little haven, while Steve set to work.

“Good day?” Steve asked, mixing colors.

“Mmmhmm. It really was.” Bucky smiled and let his body go loose and relaxed, falling into the pose easily. “That afternoon group might kill me, but I'm gonna go out smiling.”

Steve laughed, and started to dab color on. “I've seen you work. I hope they know they're damned lucky.”

“They know.” Bucky let his eyes slip closed for a moment. “It's always nice to go back to groups. Not as collaborative as one-on-one, but nice.”

“Oh, hey, speaking of, when d'you go back to DC to work with that guy? Do you know?”

“No,” Bucky admitted. “Next month, at least, I think he's busy teaching. So maybe the summer. Why?”

“No reason. Just I'll probably tag along if you don't mind. I don't see Sam as much as I'd like to, now that I'm back here full-time.”

“Of course I don't mind.” Bucky opened his eyes and smiled at Steve, who blushed and grinned back. Oh, look at him, what he could _do_ to his guy. Steve could have had anyone in the world, and it was Bucky who made him dumb and awkward and tongue-tied.

He blew Steve a little kiss, and closed his eyes again. “How're you, love?”

“Me? I'm fine.”

“Steven.”

“I'm fine! Honest.” Steve laughed, and Bucky opened his eyes again and let himself just watch Steve. He stood easily, light on his feet, and his movements were smooth, still filling in big chunks of color with detail to be added on. “I don't even feel sad much lately, I promise.”

“Good to know. It's okay if you do,” Bucky reminded him. “Nothing wrong with a little sad, and all.” He met Steve's eyes, and felt his whole body get warm. “Glad my guy is doin' good though.”

“Really good,” Steve confirmed. “It's been a nice spring.” No serious threats, Bucky reckoned up. Training was going well, the Avengers more or less did not all hate one another which was an actual literal miracle, and SHIELD seemed to be behaving itself.

And. Oh.

“Hey, you know what's coming up?”

“Hmmm? Oh, yeah, that big street show. You wanna go?”

Bucky laughed. “Yes, but that wasn't what I meant.”

Steve actually froze in terror. “Shit, what am I forgetting? Wait.” His eyes narrowed. “What am _I_ forgetting that _you_ remember?”

Bucky laughed harder. “Okay, so you know it's something in long-term memory....”

“ _Bucky,_ ” Steve whined. “Oh, did you set a calendar thingy for tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Bucky bit his lip and thought. Right, mental rewind. Kitchen with Steve. Nat. Had they made plans? “Fuck,” he breathed. “Shit, I'm sorry love, what...?”

“Hey.” Steve put down his paintbrush and came over, kissing Bucky's forehead. “It's not your fault, baby. Next time I've got clean hands, I'll put a reminder on your calendar okay?”

“Thanks,” Bucky said, but didn't smile until Steve had kissed him properly and nudged his nose against Bucky's forehead.

“C'mon, brain. Be nice to my fella,” Steve ordered, then kissed Bucky's temple and got back to work. “So we got plans for tomorrow, and I've got R&R until Monday, but I already added that.”

“Thanks.” Bucky's entire life ran by his calendar. His memory was a little bit better than it had been, but he still needed to write every appointment down. At least he could _mostly_ remember people, or things he had done. It was the future that fucked him over.

His future was looking pretty good, he reminded himself. As much work as he wanted, a boyfriend who doted on him and, more immediately, dinner and cuddles and watching terrible home improvement shows. Bucky felt his shoulders relax, and he eased back into the sofa. Just because his brain was kind of terrible (and his body too, from time to time), didn't mean things couldn't be good.

Steve worked in silence for awhile, losing himself in concentration, and Bucky lost himself in the moment. Be present, let his _self_ be present. That's what Steve was trying to capture – not just the outlines of his body, but who Bucky _was_. Loving and forgetful and a good cook and terrible at doing laundry in any kind of timely manner. Funny and fun, more sociable than Steve, also more likely to spend a whole day in bed just for the indulgence of it. All of that needed to come through, and for all of that Bucky needed to be present.

They worked for a good two hours, with breaks for water and more kisses, until finally Steve started to clean up. Bucky, who was plenty comfortable thank you very much, stayed where he was, his legs finally not aching, and generally feeling pretty good about his life choices. Particularly when Steve came over and nudged him over to make room, the two of them curling around each other.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Steve murmured into Bucky's hair, those big warm hands running up and down Bucky's back.

“Hey, you.” Bucky snuggled a little closer and started pressing kisses to Steve's throat. “Sorry about forgetting tomorrow.”

“Not your fault.” Another little kiss, this time on the side of his head. There were terrible scars there; visible if he wore his undercut up, invisible when he let his hair down. Bucky wore his hair up a lot more after Steve pointed out that they looked a lot like the Howling Commandos wing. “We're going to the Tower for tea and video games.”

“Nice. Nat's gonna be there, right?”

“Uh huh. Can't wait to see how you shame yourself this time,” Steve teased, still kissing. Now he was behind Bucky's ear. “You remember she kissed you goodbye earlier today, right?”

“Steve, that is burned onto my consciousness for all time,” Bucky sighed. “You don't understand. You're a gorgeous human being surrounded by beautiful people who do amazing things all _day_.”

“What, and you're not?”

Bucky laughed. “Not to the extent you are!” He kissed Steve softly. “I know I'm okay to look at, even with everything. But I still can't quite grasp, sometimes, that _you_ picked _me._ ”

“Learn it, live it, love it,” Steve said firmly. “I love you, James Barnes. For a lot more than your looks, too.”

“I know.” Bucky nuzzled Steve's collarbone, and kissed the spot. Steve smelled like paint and his soap and himself, and it was wonderful. “You figured out what's coming up soon yet?”

“ _Ugh_.” Steve laughed and goosed Bucky. “Um. We're past your birthday and it's not mine for a few months.”

“Uh huh.” Bucky kissed the ridge of bone, smooth and perfect under Steve's also-perfect skin. God, his boyfriend was _gorgeous_.

“Opening Day is already passed –oh. _Oh_. Christ, I'm an idiot.”

“Yup.”

“I swear I would have remembered our anniversary before it actually happened,” Steve said, and Bucky giggled and kissed him.

“Uh huh.” He slung one leg over Steve's hips, and goosed him. “We don't gotta do anything, by the way. Just knowing that it's been a year is...amazing,” he finally settled on.

“We don't _gotta_ , but do you _wanna_?” Steve asked, just to make Bucky laugh, and stroked his hand down one long, long leg, warming Bucky's skin. “Because I, for one, want to take you out and show you off shamelessly.” A little kiss. “I wanna spoil you.” Another, longer kiss. “Wanna show you how much I love you.”

“Steve.” Bucky was a little breathless now, and he pushed himself up with the stump of his left arm, right arm winding around Steve's neck to pull him close and kiss him properly. “You show me every time you look at me.”

“You know what I mean,” Steve mumbled into his mouth, kissing growing a little deeper, a little more frantic. “God, I love you.”

“Love you so much, Stevie.” His man out of time, his gift. The man who should be impossible, who had died even before Bucky's parents were born, and who was alive and gorgeous and right here.

Come to think of it, they had both, technically, died. Steve in the ice, Bucky after the train accident. (He got better, and it was only for a few seconds anyway.) Neither of them should be here in this warm, perfect space, all soft fabrics and cushions and wrapped around each other, but here they were. Call it a double miracle, call it a love story, call it whatever you wanted.

Bucky kissed Steve harder, and let his mouth drop open. He didn't always love the whole tongue thing, but tonight – yeah. He wanted this closeness.

Steve flicked his tongue against Bucky's mouth, his way of asking permission, and Bucky licked back and oh, _oh_ . When he loved this, he _really loved this_.

Steve moaned into the kiss, and Bucky rubbed his back, shucked his shirt up so he could get his hand on that perfect warm skin. Steve was already touching him all over, hands stroking his shoulders, his back, carefully taking his weight.

Bucky very, very gently shifted away when he felt Steve's cock, hard against his thigh. “Too much, baby?” he asked tenderly.

“Mmm. No, not yet.” Steve kissed him back. “You up for making out while I get myself off?”

Bucky bit his lip, and reminded himself that Steve knew he was ace, knew he was mostly sex-repulsed, and loved him with super-soldier levels of energy just the same. “Sorry baby, not tonight.” A long, long kiss, his tongue darting in and out of Steve's mouth, hand squeezing and moving, all the things they both liked the best. “Tell you what. We make out 'til you need to get yourself off, and I'll go take care of dinner, while you take care of _you_.” Another kiss, lighter now, lips tracing down Steve's throat. “Then I'll come back and make sure my man is fed and happy and you can afterglow at me to your heart's content.”

“Deal.” Steve grinned happily and squeezed Bucky's thigh. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Bucky bit back an apology. This was who he was, part of the package. Steve deserved better _obviously_ , but they were finding a way to make it work. And Steve had apparently not gotten the memo that he deserved better, going by the way he was gazing at Bucky. The dweeb.

They returned to necking until Steve's breath was coming short and fast, and Bucky gently pulled away, kneeling by the bed to kiss him one more time. “Have a good wank,” he teased, and Steve laughed, breathless and joyful.

“Believe me, I will. Have fun making dinner.”

Bucky stuck his tongue out and made sure to wiggle his ass as he left the studio. He stopped by Steve's bedroom briefly to steal some clothes, and headed for the kitchen. Steve needed more food than he usually let on, but between leftovers and nibbles and everything else in the well-stocked kitchen (thank you JARVIS and grocery deliveries), Bucky could put together a nice little feast.

He was nearly done and about to load the food onto a tray when Steve came into the kitchen, still a little flushed, but smelling like soap and a little bit of paint. He wrapped around Bucky and started pressing kisses to his neck.

“Hi, baby,” Bucky said softly and turned around in Steve's arms, holding him close.

“Hi, love. Love you so much.” Steve was doe-eyed and so handsome it took Bucky's breath away. He pressed more kisses to Bucky's jawline, then found his mouth. “Mmm.”

Bucky laughed a little and hugged Steve tightly. “C'mon, you need to eat, my super-soldier. Afterglow or no afterglow.”

“Gimme a minute,” Steve murmured, and Bucky's heart actually hurt. Steve still needed him for this.

“Give you as much time as you want,” he promised, and kissed his lover back to himself, rubbing Steve's back and nuzzling a line down his throat, leaning over to kiss right where that big heart beat, just on the other side of skin and bone. “Love you, Steve.”

Steve just sighed and went heavy against Bucky. “Mmm. Promise you'll stay the night?” he asked, a little wistfully.

“Nothing is dragging me away from you tonight. I love sharing a bed with you,” he reminded Steve, and kissed the tip of his nose. “Love cuddling with you when we wake up together, and I _really_ love knowing that you're right there all night. That I'm right there, if you have a nightmare or just need a person.”

Steve smiled and rested his head on Bucky's shoulder. “I like that too,” he said, almost shyly.

“Good.” Another kiss, then another, and Steve relaxed. Fuck. Fuck, he owed his man so much more than this. Maybe he could just grit his teeth and

\--no. Steve would be able to tell, and it would kill him, to think Bucky was putting himself through pain and disgust just so he'd be there while Steve got himself off. That wouldn't work at all in the long run, and he fucking well wanted there to be a long run.

Bucky kissed him again, and they smiled at each other. “Better?” Bucky asked softly, and Steve nodded, his smile growing.

“Amazing. Love you.” He kissed Bucky's cheek. “Need any help with dinner?”

“You get us drinks, and I'll get this to the table,” Bucky ordered, and they moved around each other in the cozy little kitchen, settling down to eat with their feet tangled together.

“Oh, I added tomorrow to your calendar,” Steve mentioned, in between huge bites.

Bucky nudged a plate of mashed potatoes a little closer to him. “Thanks, baby. Wanna paint again tomorrow night? We can even start with croquis.”

“See how you feel,” Steve said. “If you're not achy or anything, we can do that. But yeah, definitely painting.” He grinned. “We're gonna have to rearrange the bed again.”

“Eh. Worth it.” Bucky aimed a light kick at Steve's ankle. “HGTV for the rest of the night?”

“God, yes. I need people making terrible decorating choices in my life.”

Bucky giggled, and made sure Steve ate his fill. They cleaned up together and curled up on the huge sofa, big enough to hold Steve's giant frame and Bucky's long legs. He let Steve be little spoon, even, settling so that they were lying on their left sides, and Bucky's good arm was free.

“Comfy?” Steve asked, rubbing the end of Bucky's left arm. There was only a few inches, really, but it was enough to nudge under Steve, do something like hold him.

“Unbelievably. I only love you for your furniture, by the way.”

“Eh, that's fair.” Steve laughed and snuggled back, squirming until he was somehow tucked into Bucky's arms, despite his ridiculous shoulders.

Bucky drifted off between sarcastic take-downs of budget expectations, and only half woke up when Steve was picking him up to carry him to the bedroom.

“Mrmph.”

“Shhh, go back to sleep, baby. I got you,” Steve murmured, shifting so that Bucky's head was pillowed on his shoulder. “You gotta sleep more, Buck.”

“ _Nnnnnn_.”

A soft laugh he felt more than heard. “Uh huh. You _do_ , you know you gotta. Drift back off now, you're safe.”

Well, _obviously_. Bucky could even see the shield, leaning against the wall on Steve's side of the bed, and then there was Steve himself, and Bucky was maybe the safest person in the whole city. Maybe the whole world.

He was asleep before Steve finished pulling the blankets up over him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
